


Light on a broken glass

by darkandstormyslash



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: M/M, Some Swearing, a very confused Aberama, implied sexual history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 11:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13363785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkandstormyslash/pseuds/darkandstormyslash
Summary: Alfie Solomons wants a word with Aberama Gold. A very specific word about Tommy.I did not get enough of these two interacting in the show!





	Light on a broken glass

Aberama hears footsteps entering the gin distillery behind him and turns with his gun already cocked, not lowering it as Alfie Solomons limps into the room. Aberama watches with narrowed eyes, this is a man he doesn’t trust and the more he finds out about Solomons the less he trusts him, no matter what Tommy might say. Alfie doesn’t seem to be in a hurry. He surveys the distillery, taps on some pipes with his cane and gives a little nod, then shuffles over to the packing boxes and gives them the same treatment until Aberama snaps out in exasperation, “What the fuck do you want?”

“You got a boy, Mister Gold, hmm? Yeah, you have, right?”

“You know I have.” Aberama watches, his impatience mounting as Solomons responds with nothing more than a short nod. “You’ve met him. I was there.”

“Precisely.” Solomons is clearly here for a reason, but doesn’t seem in any hurry to get that reason out. Aberama follows him with the gun as he hobbles across to the second lot of packing crates, poking them with the end of the cane. It might be a walking aid, but from what Aberama can see Alfie’s cane is also a nice hefty piece of metal that could do someone a mischief if used correctly. Just as he’s about to ask the man what on earth he’s here for, Solomons speaks again.

“See, thing is, he doesn’t always  _think_ , right? He thinks he does, thinks he’s very clever. He’s not though.”

Aberama gives a scowl, “You talking about my boy there?” The gun raises a little higher, although he’s not about to shoot it in here. Too much noise, too much risk of damage, and besides nobody's paying him for it.

“Nah, nah, calm it down, alright?” Alfie waves his hand dismissively and then, maddeningly, he stops talking again entirely. Aberama’s coming rapidly close to losing his temper, until it suddenly hits him that Alfie isn’t deliberately trying to be awkward, or at least no more awkward than usual.

Alfie Solomons is _embarrassed_.

With that knowledge, Aberama is happy to wait for as long as it takes.

“Thing is you know, _you_ know, you’re not going to be around for him, yeah, not forever.”

The gun wavers slightly in Aberama’s hands, “Is that a threat?”

“Fucks sake will you fucking _listen_ when I’m talking to you.” Alfie glares at him, anger in his eyes, and Aberama raises his eyebrows and tries to look unconcerned while his heart beats a rapid staccato in his chest. “It’s not a threat, it’s a basic fucking fact of life, alright? We’re not going to be here, not as long as we’d like, not any of us. And when we go, right, there are people who might’ve needed us. People who need us even if they don’t realise it yet on account of them being bloody-minded little shits who chase the first piece of skirt they see, and the thing is…” Alfie leans heavily against the wall and points his cane at Aberama, “He’s going to wind himself up tighter and tighter till he _snaps_ and that’ll be a bloody mess for someone to clean up and I’d rather not have that happen. Yeah? Not to him.”

Aberama listens, then thinks, then tries turning the words around a bit in his head to see if they make any sense at all. “Not to who?”

Alfie Solomons looks shocked, his head doing a slight double-take as if it’s incomprehensible to him that Aberama doesn’t know who he’s talking about. “Tommy Shelby, who did you think?”

Aberama’s mouth drops open involuntarily, his forehead creasing in confusion. “What?”

“Fucks sake if you’re going to be like this, there’s no need to be like this really, is there? Now I know you don’t like me, and fair enough, I don’t like you much either, don’t like you at all in fact. I don’t like your son, and I don’t like your hair, and I don’t even like your horse but you are in a privileged position here, and I’d like to ask that when I am no longer _able_ , on account of being in the fucking ground, to keep an eye out for Tommy Shelby and keep him spinning along without going off his axis completely, that you could do it for me. Right?”

The cane knocks against the floor and Alfie stares at him belligerently. Aberama blinks a few times and then manages, in a tone of disbelief, “You … care about him?”

“Alright, yeah, so if I do?”

“But…” This conversation is veering far away from what Aberama feels he’s equipped to deal with, “You _betrayed_ Tommy Shelby. Twice.”

He has to take a step back fairly quickly, as Alfie takes two forwards and a fist holding a cane is suddenly up in his chest, “What I did to Tommy Shelby goes beyond simple betrayal mate, alright? That is the nature of what we do, and he’s got to know that, he has to learn it, if he hasn’t learnt it by now he’s in for a big fucking surprise I’ll tell you that. I’m not asking you to keep him alive, because that is difficult bordering on impossible, I’m asking you to just _watch_ him, alright? Keep an eye on him.” Alfie’s eyes stare into his, and then roll slightly as they encounter only bafflement in return. “You know moths, yeah?”

“ _Moths?_ ”

“Yeah, course you do, you probably eat them. Now the thing about moths, right, is they use the moon, and this is true because a good friend of mine who unfortunately came into a terrible accident told me about it when he was working at a university. They use the moon to know where they’re going. But sometimes, they see other lights, right, and they get distracted. Maybe inside their little heads they’re putting together all sorts of clever plans and tricks to get into those other lights but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter. Either way. Bzzt.” Alfie snaps his forefingers together and then nods, moving back and leaving Aberama even more baffled than he was before.

“You want me…” Aberama says eventually, “To tell Tommy Shelby about moths?”

“I want you.” The cane swings up to point at him again, the end of it swaying dangerously, “To just remind him, just every now and again, that he’s meant to be heading for the fucking moon.”

“Alright.” Aberama says, more than happy to agree if it gets a mad Jewish gangster out of the distillery. “I’ll tell him about the moon. I suppose I should be reassured that you think I’ll last longer than you will.”

“Yeah, well.” Alfie gives a grunt and a heavy shrug and turns to leave, pausing as he reaches the door and raising the cane again. “Now I wouldn’t usually bring this up, but seeing as you’ve got that fucking hair and all…”

“What?” Aberama gives a frustrated sigh, leaning the gun against the wall to give his aching muscles a rest. His hands have been clenching it tight the entire encounter.

“Don’t try and fuck him.”

The silence that follows that statement is the loudest silence Aberama has ever heard. It takes more courage than he’s used in a while to insert a steely-sharp retort into it, “What exactly are you trying to imply, Mister Solomons?”

“If you fuck him.” Alfie says distantly, addressing himself to the packaged gin bottles, “I will claw myself up from The Pit of Corruption and I will haunt you in whatever form I am permitted to do so until you are driven to an early grave.”

Something is being insinuated here, but Aberama isn't ready to bet on exactly what. It’s only seven generations of pride keeping him from running out the room now, that and the fact that Alfie Solomons is blocking the door. “I don’t – why would I want to fuck Tommy Shelby?”

“Because Tommy Shelby,” Alfie responds, and he finally looks up into Aberama’s eyes and Aberama knows that he will never, ever tell a soul what he’s heard in this room. “Has an arse like a peach from the Garden of Eden.”

And with that Alfie Solomons is gone, and Aberama is left staring at the door in a state of shock.


End file.
